Brooklyn Brothel (11 page)

“But…” Mike tried to say.

“Are you gonna take me or not?” I snapped.

I guess Mike could tell that I wasn’t about to take no for an answer, because as soon as the light turned green, he made a quick u-turn. At first, I thought he was about to take me back to Betty’s, but once we passed the house, I figured I’d finally made my point.

“I ain’t tryna waste my money either, so don’t take me to get no weak shit!”

He was quiet. For the rest of the trip, Mike didn’t utter another word, but I could care less. I didn’t expect him or anyone else to understand what I was going through or how it made me feel when I used. All he needed to do was his fuckin’ job. He was a driver not a drug counselor.

Forty-five minutes later, we pulled up to a run-down high-rise apartment buildin’ with graffiti on damn near every brick wall and trash all ova the ground. Lookin’ at the numerous crack heads and junkies that were walkin’ around, I could tell Mike had brought me to the right spot.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Mike paused for a few seconds, then answered. “The Bronx.”

“Can you stop actin’ like that? What’s wrong with you? Why do you even care?” His bitchy attitude was really gettin’ on my damn nerves.

“I just don’t understand why you want to do this.”

He seemed sincere, but I wasn’t in the mood to justify my actions. “Can you just tell me where to go?” I placed my hand on the door knob, and proceeded to get out, but Mike stopped me.

“No, I’ll go for you.”

I was shocked. “Why?”

“This is not the best neighborhood. I’ll feel better if you just stayed in the car.”

Before I could even respond, Mike jumped out the car and walked toward the entrance of the buildin’. I quickly yelled out like he could hear me. “Don’t you need some money?”

As I waited for Mike to come back, I began to look around at the obvious drug addicted people again, and wondered who they’d gotten their drug of choice from. As crazy as it sounds, I began to get excited and hoped that Mike would visit the same dealer. The need to get high was suddenly drivin’ me crazy. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I began tappin’ my fingers against the window to an impatient beat until I finally saw Mike walkin’ back toward the car. The closer he got, the wider my smile became. That is until he jumped inside the car, and handed me the package.

I stared at the small plastic bag that the white powder was in and frowned as Mike quickly drove away. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s what you asked for,” he responded in a nonchalant tone.

I stared at the bag again. The weed, which looked to be about a dime piece, I could deal with, but the coke was unacceptable. “I mean, this is not enough. I can only get about one line from this. Maybe two.” I held up the bag and began to shake it back and forth.

“Well, that’s what you wanted, right? A line. Besides, that’s all I could get for what I was willing to spend,” Mike announced, then made a left turn.

“Willin’ to spend. Are you serious? Take me back!” I yelled. “Turn this car around right now. I got money. I knew I shoulda went and got my own shit.”

“The only place I’m taking you is to the station. You’re going back home.”

I couldn’t believe Mike was puttin’ his foot down, like he was my father or some shit. “Take me back!”

Obviously ignorin’ me, Mike continued to drive which instantly pissed me off. I sat there for a few minutes, contemplatin’ about hoppin’ out at the next light, but changed my mind when I thought about the coke. Even though it was a small amount, it was needed now more than ever. Not havin’ my normal coke tools, which consisted of a CD cover and a cut straw, I went into my purse and pulled out the next best thing. Grabbin’ the crisp ten dollar bill, I quickly rolled it up in the shape of a little tube then opened the plastic bag. Quickly emptyin’ a small amount of powder on the top of my hand, I held my head down, placed the bill near my nostril then began to inhale.

Within seconds, the fast-actin’ stimulant entered my blood stream, and gave me a rush that I hadn’t felt in a while. As more seconds passed, I could feel my heart rate start to increase, then a warm tinglin’ sensation entered my limbs. I instantly felt a sense of joy…excitement, which was normally the case whenever I used. Suddenly, all my problems with Bo, Betty, Dre and even Mike were gone.

Dumpin’ more powder on the back of my hand, I did my second little line before my nose began to run, and the disatisfyin’ drip in the back of my throat made my tongue numb. That fucked up feelin’…I could never get used to. Feelin’ much better than before, I reached my right hand ova the seat and began to rub one of Mike’s shoulders.

“Thank you for doin’ this for me, baby. You have no idea how happy I am now,” I said in a seductive tone. My attitude had changed instantly.

“Yeah,” he said in return.

“Why don’t you stop the car and climb back here so I can really repay you?”

For the first time since leavin’ the Bronx, Mike looked in the rear view. “No thanks. I’ll pass on the invitation.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Suit yourself. You have no
idea what you’re missin’. My pussy would do wonders for you right about now.”

Bo was at the downtown Greyhound bus terminal right on schedule. I didn’t expect anythin’ different. I could always count on him to be prompt, and neat with his appearance. Bright purple was his choice of color for the day. I watched him from the window pimpin’ in front of his ride, new wing tip shoes, crisp purple, orange and yellow shirt. And last but not least, a sparklin’ new diamond in his ear. Betty had just sent the money Western Union earlier in the day, therefore, I figured he’d been doin’ well for himself lately, of course at the expense of some chick.

He grinned like he was on top of the world as the bus pulled into the second space on the end. When the engine shut off, I slowly made my way off the bus. He grabbed me, feelin’ all ova my body like I was a new product on the market. When he stuck his hands down my bra feelin’ all around my boobs, I wanted to puke. The sight of him made my skin crawl.

“Hey, boo. How was New York?” he asked.

I didn’t waste anytime gettin’ into his shit. After another gruelin’ seven hour bus ride, I wasn’t in the best mood. Plus, my attitude would give me a chance to break away from his hand assault on my body, “Where’s my money, Bo?” I asked stickin’ my hand out.

He stopped fondlin’ me just like I wanted. “What money, gurrrllll?”

“Look, don’t play games with me. Betty said you wanted her to Western Union my cut for whatever reason, and now I want it.”

“Who yo ass talkin’ to? Besides, do you mean my
money?”

I finally put my hand down, and looked at Bo like he needed Ritalin. “Yo money. Are you serious? That shit is mine. I worked hard for that money, not you.” I knew talkin’ to Bo like that was bold, but fuck it. I was tired of people tryin’ to play me.

“Bitch…” Suddenly, Bo stopped in mid-sentence and looked at me with a crazy expression. He then walked up on me and started snifin’ like a blood hound. “Yo clothes smell like fuckin’ weed or some shit. You been smokin’? Did you pay fo that shit wit’ some of my money?”

I rolled my eyes like he was trippin’, but neva answered the question. Little did Bo know, weed wasn’t the only thing I’d indulged in before leavin’ New York. I couldn’t believe after that long-ass bus ride, the smell was still in my clothes. Thinkin’ back, I had to damn near beg Mike to take me to a convenience store, so I could get some cigars for the weed in the first place, but I was glad I did. Blunts were always a good chaser.

Somethin’ told me to try and turn up the charm. “Really Bo, you know I need that money for Carlton. Can I please have it?”

“Look’a’here, gurl. Did yo ass forget that I was the one who sent ya ta make money in the first damn place? You ain’t gon pull nuthin’ ova on me.”

“I’m not tryna pull nothin’ ova on you,” I pleaded. “Can I at least have some of it?” I extended my hand for the second time, ready for him to grease my palm.

“Maybe later.”

That was it. That was the only response I got right before he turned around and walked toward his car. He acted like he wasn’t even gonna grab my suitcase until the bus driver pushed it his way. Knowin’ that this conversation wasn’t goin’ anywhere until I probably gave his ass some head, I
decided to leave it alone, and followed Bo to his Buick.

Steppin’ inside, nothin’ had changed since I’d been away. Bo had the same coconut air-freshener invadin’ my nose, mixed with the smell of incense. Of course his old school music remained the same. When Bo started the ignition,
Diamond In The Back
by Curtis Mayfield came blaring through the system. I turned the volume down and asked Bo to stop to get me some cigarettes.

“Oh, so you brand new. First weed, now cigarettes? You want a forty-ounce of Malt Liquor, too?”

“Seriously, Bo. I need a cigarette, plus I gotta pee.” I started squirmin’ around like I had to go real bad.

“Why the fuck didn’t you pee back at the terminal? I gotta get to the crib, and make a few moves.”

He tried to make small talk questionin’ me about the experience at Betty’s, but all he got were one-word answers, and the cold shoulder. How the fuck did he expect me to answer his questions, when he wouldn’t give me my money?

“You tryna act funky on a brotha?” he asked preparin’ for a wild’n out session.

“No Bo, I’m just tired. I’ve been on my back all week.” I rolled my eyes and continued movin’ my ass around in the seat.

Once we arrived to the apartment and Bo unlocked the door, I jetted inside and ran straight to the bathroom. Of course the door got locked immediately. I yanked my pants down as fast as I could, and stuck my fingers into my vagina. My adrenaline pumped ’cause I heard’s Bo’s footsteps headed toward the bathroom. I reached in and out and fumbled all around. I could feel the condom balled up inside of me, my fingers just couldn’t get a good grip.

I heard the door knob rumble, then Bo started yellin’, “Bitch, why you got my door locked? Open dis damn door, or I’m kickin’ it in!”

I panicked. The only thing I could think to do was squat further. I pushed harder using my vaginal muscles and grunted. “I’m doin’ a number two, Bo!”

“And I’ma do a number 187 and come in there and blow your fuckin’ brains out!”

I pushed again with all my might, this time usin’ my thumb and index finger at the same time. I was in so much pain as the condom was comin’ out; it burned like shit. Bo was bangin’ like crazy on the door, shoutin’ all these threats about what he was gonna do to me.

“You betta notttttttt be stashin’ no money!” he yelled, accentin’ the ‘t’ on the word not. Then he kicked the door, makin’ it move and shake like it was about to come off the hinges.

As soon as I got the condom out, I noticed an old wooden plunger next to me with a black, long handle. Quickly, I lifted it, stuffed the money filled condom inside just as the door flew open from his last kick.

Bo entered the small space like Rambo, and lifted me up off the toilet by my hair. “What da fuck ya doin’ in here?”

“Nothin’!” I shouted as my wig fell off from bein’ dragged across the floor. The moment he realized he’d lost the grip on my wig, he grabbed my left leg, and kept draggin’ me into the bedroom.

He had my body sweepin’ every bit of dust from the floor. Finally, he stopped when my head banged against the leg of the nightstand. I was in a daze, but still knew he was rippin’ my clothes off of me at top speed. I made the mistake of kickin’ him, and got slapped with a powerful thrust right to my face.

“What are you doin’ Bo!” I shouted, just knowin’ he was about to rape my ass.

He slapped me again; this time I tasted blood. I started cryin’ like a baby, realizin’ my shirt was ripped completely
open and my pants and panties were completely off. “Why Bo…. Why? Why you wanna rape me?”

“Rape you? Bitch, I wanna see if you stashin’ money. I can get pussy anywhere!”

Immediately, my mind played back to what Cinnamon had said. She was absolutely right about him.

With force, Bo stuck his long, brittle fingernail into my vagina. It felt like someone was puncturin’ my insides. “See, you think I’m a rookie. But taaaaaa…Sugar told me about y’all connivin’ bitches. If you got money, you betta believeeeeeee, I’ma find it.”

I hated even more than before the way he kept draggin’ out his words, and makin’ his eyes bulge every time he said somethin’ that he thought sounded more like a pimp.

Without warnin’, and without lubrication, Bo flipped me onto my stomach and jammed his finger up my ass-hole. My insides cried out in pain, as did my mouth. I sang my, ahhhhhhhhhhs, hopin’ someone would hear me. Bo obviously didn’t give a fuck!

He jumped up, leavin’ me on the floor feelin’ violated. I guess satisfied that there was no cash on me, he went for my clothes. I watched him throw all my clothes outta my suitcase and rummage through the pockets of each for about five minutes. Next, he darted toward the bathroom.

My heart stopped.

“Bo, what are you doin’,” I yelled from the floor. “I think I’m bleedin’!”

Did he know that I had money for sure? Had Cinnamon told on me just as Sasha did? I shook my head in disgust wonderin’ why I had eva trusted anybody with knowin’ my business.